Exchanging Familiy
by Spock99
Summary: Draco loses his parents in his third year. What will happen to the Malfoy heir when Albus Dumbledore finds out? Is there any hope for the blond Slytherin?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hello, world! Here I am again with a little plot that popped up today and brought me out of my motivation-lack and writer's block. **

**It is written in a huge bout of ideas and I hope it isn't too confusing. **

**Let me know what you think of the idea, and what you'd like to happen!**  
**Enjoy reading!**

* * *

Exchanging Family

Walking the Hogwarts grounds in the dark was beautiful and scary at the same time. The castle stood proudly above the forbidden forest and the black lake, its windows throwing sparkling lights into the night. Like a diamond breaks the light into thousands of tiny spots when illuminated by a small light. 

Dumbledore loved seeing Hogwarts in her nightly glory. The huge walls standing strong all the things to come. The ancient castle was home to so many souls and did her job in protecting her inhabitants well for centuries. The thick walls and long corridors had been a shelter, home and place of magic for a long time and would continue to be so for the hundreds of years to come. 

The best part of being headmaster was definitely wandering the castle. Equal on which time of the day or night, Hogwarts held many surprises for the attentive walker. This night was no different from others. Albus was on his way back from a late-night stroll around the lake. A walk around the grounds always helped him to clear his mind and order his thoughts before diving into the business of the next day. The headmaster enjoyed the cool, clean air and the calmness lying over the castle and the nature. When Dumbledore ascended the main stairs leading to the entrance, he felt something odd going on. 

There was a small uneasy feeling emerging from the depths of Albus' mind. He was not able to name it but somehow the castle always let him know if there was anything out of order. Ever since Albus had become headmaster so many years ago, Hogwarts had told him where things were out of order. The castle created a strong bond to each headmaster to ensure the safety of the many students and staff. Now Albus felt this little something tugging at his mind. 

The headmaster pushed open the main doors and walked through the entrance hall, following the corridor in the direction of the dungeons. Somehow his feet seemed to walk on their own without corresponding where. Dumbledore concentrated on the feeling now spreading through his entire body. It pulled him along and the headmaster trusted his connection with the ancient castle. 

There were many things not even a headmaster could understand. The castle was magical in her very own way. There was magic from every century, every student and staff, every animal and plant inside those walls. Ancient magic protecting the castle against every foe ever thought of. 

Curiously Dumbledore walked down the first set of stairs, then the second and through a dark corridor. How the students of Slytherin house could navigate in such confusing corridors was quite a riddle to him. All the inhabitants had, at one point in time, been to the dungeons. But most of them had never bothered to explore the darker corridors and corners where shadows masked the unknown. 

But maybe that was why Salazar Slytherin had chosen the dungeons for his house's quarters. Like the dark corridors, few people actually tried to look behind the faces of those children and adults Slytherin brought into society. 

To Dumbledore himself Slytherins could be a secret. He had worked and known many of them but for a Gryffindor like him, the snakes held surprises every time. Their way of thinking astonishing him every time they were far ahead in their heads, their way to analyse every situation and comprehend what impact small details could have on them. 

About Gryffindors one knew most of their thoughts and feelings, because none of them kept quiet. Just like everyone knew about the tower and the red and gold. Slytherins, hidden in the dungeon, cunning and determined, could blend in so many backgrounds like second nature. Green as deep as the ocean or bright like the first leaves in the spring. They were a mystery, no doubt. But Albus loved all his children in his school. Students and Staff alike were dear to him and he valued their presence too much to not care about them. 

The headmaster continued following the invisible force further down a still bright corridor. Hogwarts pulled him along the walls, through a dark corridor and towards a brighter one. Slytherin common room lay long behind the headmaster. When he arrived at the third corner, Albus suddenly heard quiet sobbing and a high cooing voice. 

Maybe it was one of the new first years being homesick? But usually the younger students weren't out of bed at this time of the night. Slowly Dumbledore tiptoed around another corner. Now the slight pull from the castle's magic stopped. The sobbing grew louder and now he was able to understand the soft words spoken. 

"Young Master has to stop crying. Must be strong. Young Master should go to Master Professor Snape..." the high squeaking voice told in a much firmer tone but was just answered by a louder sob. 

Moments later a trembling voice whispered: "I can't, Abby. He said it's too dangerous. He... He s-saw..." the boy sobbed. 

Now Dumbledore was certain this was a boy of about thirteen or fourteen and a house elf. It seemed as if the boy didn't want to confide in Severus Snape. If the elf suggested this, the crying boy must be a Slytherin. None of the other houses would even think about going to the stern man with a problem. None of them knew how much Severus cared for his little snakes. He supported them in any way possible like every head-of-house. 

"Young Master wipe away tears now. I's will bring young Mater down to kitchen and make hot chocolate, yes?" the elf tried but Dumbledore heard no response. As quietly as possible the headmaster looked around the corner into the next corridor. 

The torches along the walls were lit with a dim light, just enough to keep some shadows in the corners of the window. On one of the windowsills sat a boy, knees drawn up to his chest and arms folded on them. His face was buried in his arms and his blond hair fell over his forehead and arms. The child was only clad in his pyjamas, as if he had just been woken up. 

A small house elf stood next to the boy patting his shoulder in concern. The small creature seemed to be at a total loss. The boy was still sobbing into his arms. The elf, Abby, had tears in her eyes and held a handkerchief in her free hand. Dumbledore decided to make his presence known to the pair. 

Slowly he stepped out from his corner and calmly walked up to the boy and the elf. The boy's shoulders were trembling, and his hitched breathing told Albus he was still crying. The boy was indeed a Slytherin student and Dumbledore knew who he was instantly as he saw the tousled, usually neatly ordered, blond hair more clearly. 

The small house elf squeaked in surprise as the headmaster of Hogwarts stopped next to the windowsill. It quickly stood in front of her master in protection. 

"What could bring a young man like you to sitting on a windowsill in the depth of the night, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked gently. His low voice and careful approach didn't change anything because the boy startled and nearly fell off his seat. 

The young Malfoy heir looked up at the headmaster with red, tear-filled eyes. The silver-grey orbs filled with sorrow and despair paired with shock. 

"I... um...headmaster I..." Draco stuttered. Then he quickly caught himself, wiped off his face on his sleeve and hopped down from the windowsill to stand before the ancient wizard. His feet at least should be warm in the black slippers he wore. 

"Now, what is it that keeps you awake and out of bed, my boy?" Dumbledore asked. He looked at the blonde with a small twinkle in his eyes. 

"I'm fine, Sir. I just couldn't sleep. I'll go to bed immediately, Professor." Draco said and started to walk down the corridor. 

Dumbledore did not want to let him go. Normally someone who couldn't sleep was not sitting on a cold windowsill being comforted by a small elf. 

"Mr. Malfoy!" Albus called and was satisfied as the boy stopped. "Please don't lie to me." The headmaster went along to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco flinched but he didn't try to get away. 

"Please just let me go to my dormitory, headmaster." The teen pleaded. Dumbledore was shocked to hear a plea from the usually stoic, reserved boy. This kid was nearly a carbon copy of his father. Always with a guarded expression ready to show everyone the wealthy aristocrat he was. Dumbledore was shaken out of his stupor as he felt a timid tug at his robes. He looked down to see the small elf standing beside him. The golf-ball like eyes mirrored the struggle inside her head. 

"Young Master Draco needs help, Master headmaster, Sir." Abby whispered and winced as Draco hissed at her: 

"I don't need help, elf. Shut up!" But the small elf did not listen. She tensed visibly and closed her eyes. Then she blurted out: "YoungMasterlosthisparentstonightheneedshelp!" With that Abby ran to the next wall and slammed her head against it. She had gone against her master's orders, but it had been necessary. The boy needed someone to care for him now. Someone without connections to the Dark Lord. 

At hearing this Draco bolted away from the headmaster and tried to run but a slender but strong hand wrapped itself around his upper arm and held him back. The new information had shocked him. Yes, Voldemort had much power these days and was continuing to increase it. Many muggleborns and their families had been slaughtered over the last weeks, but the Malfoys were high ranked Death Eaters. Why should they die? 

"Draco?" Albus asked quietly. "Abby stop it! Draco what happened?" He said a bit louder. Suddenly the boy went limp in Dumbledore's grip, his knees gave away under him and he collapsed to the floor. 

Dumbledore was pulled downwards, too and after a short moment he carefully laid an arm around the sobbing teen. Draco went stiff under the touch but soon he slumped against Dumbledore's chest and cried bitterly. 

A brief conversation with Abby told Albus what had happened this night. Lucius had been confirmed as a Death Eater at the ministry and had been arrested three hours ago. There had been a speed-trail to get him off to Azkaban. Narcissa had been too shocked by her husband's arrest. She had tried to get him out, but the evidence had been too grave. Wherever they had dug up those details, Dumbledore would look into that. 

Voldemort had been furious beyond anything when he heard about the arrest of his right-hand man. He had questioned Narcissa. When she had told the Dark Lord there was nothing they could do since Lucius was already in the deepest cell in Azkaban, Voldemort had killed her on the spot. Out of overflowing range. 

Not a very honourable death for a woman who did anything to protect her son and husband. Dumbledore suspected the elf of summarizing quite roughly but a Death Eater meeting meant Severus had been there and might be able to fill him in on the missing parts of information. 

Albus forced his shocked mind to think. When Voldemort did not try to free his precious servant, his army must be too weak for a big attack. That was better than nothing. Maybe they had one or two other years until the Dark forces were strong enough. 

For now, it was more important to find a solution for the boy. Against common belief, Albus Dumbledore did not favour Gryffindors over the other houses. Each and every child in Hogwarts was somehow like a son or a daughter to him. Regardless of their background he tried to protect them all. And now it was the young Malfoy heir who was in some way orphaned now. His mother dead and his father locked away with no prospect of release. 

Albus sent Abby off to bring Severus to the headmaster's office as soon as he arrived. Then he apparated the sobbing teen and himself into his office. There were some benefits in being the headmaster, after all. He had set up the anti-apparition wards himself and Dumbledore was therefore the only person able to pass them. 

When Dumbledore was back in his office Draco hadn't noticed the change. Only when he felt a thick blanket being draped around him and a warming charm cast on him, he realized it. 

Suddenly he became all too aware of him clinging to the headmaster's robes and sobbing without restraint. Embarrassed, he pushed away and wiped his tears off of his face. Draco felt his face blush and his ears burn. Hastily he tried to smooth his hair. Then he got up from the floor and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. 

Dumbledore sat in one of the visitors chairs now, looking sadly at him. Remembering his manners, Draco looked directly into the headmaster's eyes. Then he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry, Sir" He said and tried to keep the trembling out of his voice. "Thank you for the blanket. May I go to my dormitory now?" Draco was met with the sad gaze of the headmaster. 

This might have been the first time this boy had cried like he had wanted to. Albus knew Lucius Malfoy taught his son quite early that the display of emotions in public was not acceptable. That was certainly the reason why young Draco had searched the loneliness and the comfort of a family house-elf rather than another person. And that in the night he technically lost both of his parents. 

* * *

_So - What do you think?_

_Poor Draco - Who should he go to, now that he is alone?_

_leave a review, please:-)_


	2. The first morning

_"I'm sorry, Sir" He said and tried to keep the trembling out of his voice. "Thank you for the blanket. May I go to my dormitory now?" Draco was met with the sad gaze of the headmaster._

_This might have been the first time this boy had cried like he had wanted to. Albus knew Lucius Malfoy taught his son quite early that the display of emotions in public was not acceptable. That was certainly the reason why young Draco had searched the loneliness and the comfort of a family house-elf rather than another person. And that in the night he technically lost both of his parents._

* * *

The next morning, Draco woke up later as usual. There were no sounds in the room. No Crabbe snoring, no whispered conversations. His peers were already up, no one was in the dorm. Draco rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and padded towards the bathroom. His head was pounding, and he felt a hundred years old. Well, that could be expected when one cried a full evening and half of the night. 

When Draco finally stood in front of the mirror in the Slytherin third year dorm, everything came rushing back to him. Then, the few minutes his sleepy mind needed to connect the recent happenings, those blissful moments of unknowing, were gone. Suddenly his mind caught up with the terrible events of the night before. He stared at his reflection, unseeing, stunned. There were no thoughts inside his head. Nothing. He could not think. 

There was this horrible feeling of – emptiness, loneliness. Realizing he was alone, was harder than anything. And then came the tears again. They ran down his cheeks like waterfalls, wetting his pyjama shirt. The grey eyes, that were so much like his father's, stared unseeingly ahead as if they were longing for something far behind the mirror right in front of them. 

Draco just stood there, his naked feet on the cold tiles of the bathroom, his body trembling, showing the despair in his heart for the world to see. In a poor imitation of comfort, Draco folded his arms around his torso and hugged himself tight. His fingers clenched in the fabric of his pyjama shirt, looking desperately for some kind of anchor to keep himself from falling apart. 

For a long time, the young Malfoy heir stood there. His thoughts wandering to memories of the last summer, the last Christmas, the last time he had seen his parents. The last time he had seen his father's proud smile, the last time he had felt his mother hug him. The last time they had dropped him off at the train station. Their proud smiles whenever he was successful at school or accomplished some spell or whatever they showed him over the holidays. 

He remembered his father chasing him through the manor when Draco was little. Lucius pretending to be a Hungarian horntail about to eat little Draco. He had run until his feet could not carry him anymore, and then Lucius had tickled Draco without mercy. In the end, they were both out of breath, flushed from running and laughing hard. 

And then the fond memories switched. Reality came crashing down onto Draco and the small smile those happy memories had produced, was gone in an instant. 

He imagined how his mother must have felt. In front of the Dark Lord, scared, alone, shocked to the core about the capture of her husband. Knowing he would be kissed in the morning. Not anticipating her last seconds of life were running out. If she had had time to realize what was happening? Had she thought about Draco? 

The image of his father, wearing a dirty Azkaban uniform, sitting in one of those dark cells, Draco had seen in the newspaper. Was he afraid? Did he know, his wife was no longer among the living? Did he know he would … no. 

Draco forced himself to stop right there. There was no use in dwelling on such thoughts. They only made him sadder than he was. If that was even possible. Quickly, Draco washed his face with ice-cold water to help with the puffiness around his eyes. They were still red when he straightened to look into the mirror once again. 

There was a world to face. Had he really stood there in front of the mirror for almost an hour? 

His mind was empty again. Pure nothingness keeping his head blank as if to protect those last precious memories of his family. 

On autopilot, the young Slytherin dressed in his school uniform made his bed, and went to the common room. Again, it was empty. 

A quick tempus told him, that he was late. Had he really stood there in front of the mirror for almost thirty minutes? 

Draco took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and forced his Malfoy attitude to the surface. He could do that. He could face the world alone, proud, cool like a Malfoy was supposed to deal with things. 

With his head held high, Draco Malfoy left the Slytherin common room on his way to breakfast. 

The moment Draco entered the Great Hall, and nothing happened. Nobody had seen him. Breakfast was already in session and all house tables were filled with happily chattering students. Relieved, the young Malfoy made his way to the Slytherin table and sat down. No one of his housemates looked at him. With a sharp pain in his chest, Draco realized, that they must already know of their parents what happened. Most of his mates were children of Death Eaters themselves. They would know. Before him. Because their parents came home last night. Their parents would have written them what transpired at the late meeting. They knew. 

He took a deep breath and let his eyes wander over the staff table. The teachers were eating, chatting as if nothing had happened. All of them, except two. The headmaster was looking at Draco, eyes not twinkling like usual. He nodded slightly to the young Slytherin, then he turned towards Professor McGonagall who had addressed him. 

The second teacher to watch him was Professor Snape. He looked paler than normal, and his dark eyes were staring unblinkingly at Draco. Even if the Slytherin head of house was Draco's godfather, those eyes sent shivers down Draco's spine. Severus knew. 

Sighing and fighting to keep control, Draco turned towards the breakfast in front of him. Before Draco could even take some eggs and bacon, the owls arrived. Automatically Draco searched for the beautiful dark brown owl of his a Monday after all. A little smile grazed his lips. Every Monday she sent him a little care package for the week. Mostly some sweets, sometimes new ink, or a bit of money for Hogsmeade, every Monday a little something. 

Stupid. Today there hasn't been an owl for him. Today he was alone. There was nobody to send him anything, not Mondays - never again. Tears threatened to spill again, but Draco forced them back. HE was in public. A Malfoy was not supposed to show his weakness in front of others. 

While Draco was busy fighting down his emotions, a murmur rose among the students. Suddenly eyes turned towards him, his name was whispered, suddenly everyone knew. And those who still didn't were quickly informed. Draco wanted to hide, to run, everything just to get away from all those eyes, those people. Someone placed the Daily Prophet in front of him. 

Draco forced himself to look. The front page was covered in a picture of his father. In shackles, in a cell in Azkaban. He looked defeated, his hair dirty, his posture a little slumped. "Lucius Malfoy confirmed Death Eater," he read. And below: "The Kiss of the Dementor – executed at 7 am this morning" 

For a moment Draco stared at the page that so effortlessly announced his father's misdeeds and the penalty already performed. A sob escaped Draco. Wherever this had come from. It was just one, but it was the start of something big. More tears, more sorrow, more… 

The Great Hall was silent. With an aggressive gesture, Draco shoved the dreaded paper away, knocking over half of the dishes, plates, and goblets around him. He stood. Glared around the table, daring everyone to talk to him. His right hand was clenched around his wand in his robe pocket. His cheeks were wet with tears. He felt himself trembling. Weak. 

Breathing heavily, Draco's gaze flashed over the other students. They knew nothing. NOTHING. How could they stare at him like this? Why had he even come down? Why had no one stopped him? 

Whispers rose once more, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were of them shouting comments in his direction. Nasty ones. Or perhaps not. He didn't know. Draco did not hear any of them. His head buzzed, he felt dizzy and …. And… and… 

A strong warm hand clamped down over his left shoulder, a second hand on his right shoulder following soon after. Grounding him, helping to keep his focus at least a tiny bit. His stomach lurched. Draco forced the bile in his throat back down. 

"Come, Draco." The soft murmur reached his ear and Draco stumbled back over the bench, bumping into black robes that smelled like ginger and cinder. He curled his hands into the fabric and clung to the one person who cared. 

A strong arm came around him and pressed him into a lean side. 

"Breathe, dragon."

And then they were moving. The Slytherin head of house, half pushing half-carrying Draco along until they reached the large entrance doors to the great hall. They went through, and then those doors fell shut behind them. 

Draco lost the ground under his feet, but the strong hands caught him, lifted him, and then he was carried away from all those eyes. This accusing silence. His so-called friends who had done nothing to prevent this. Those voices hollering insults towards his family, hurting him, shattering his soul. 

* * *

Hey there! It has been some time since I last updated anything here. But now my imagination is starting to work again!  
Thanks for those reviews, guys! They made my day yesterday and made me write again. I hope there is still someone reading.  
Enjoy:-)


End file.
